


Minor Tremors

by minkmix



Category: Dark Angel (TV), Supernatural
Genre: AU in the year 2020, Humor, minor tremors, not a whimper, spn/da crossover, with a bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-02 17:51:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18815989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minkmix/pseuds/minkmix
Summary: Dean POV. Alec thinks he's funny.-I have been stashing away a few Minor Tremors (aka Aftershock-era stories that don't quite fit in the series, but little slices that I would feel sad not posting. HUMOR HUMOR!!!-This verse is pretty large.And it goes in this order:'With a Bang' - https://archiveofourown.org/works/15259845/chapters/35395707and is followed by a few other arcs of this verse:After Shocks (16 chapters) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973790/chapters/39893430Not a Whimper (19 chapters) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/17001399/chapters/39967239The Ripple Effect (12 chapters) - https://archiveofourown.org/works/18596824/chapters/44087722Minor Tremors (11 Chapters).These are all completed.





	1. Minor Tremors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phyllis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phyllis/gifts).



Dean didn’t often find the sofa unoccupied these days.

The glorious construction of plywood and plaid upholstery had no parallel in modern day lounging technology. This behemoth was a Good Will reject masterpiece that had taken a team of six just to move its hefty frame from the delivery truck to the front door. Years upon years of precision ass weight had seasoned the cushioned springs to perfection. Each and every stain told a harrowing tale of sorrow, struggle, and ultimately of triumph.

Not to mention the treasure trove of unknown coin wealth lying in wait within the depths of its cavernous insides.

“Hey, Dean!” Alec yelled. “Dean!”

“What?”

“Dean?”

“Right over here.”

“Dean?”

“What?”

And to put a big fat cherry on top of the sundae of the sofa-out-of-body experience, Dean had somehow also acquired utter and supreme control over the television set. The punch bowl of Chex-Mix was his feedbag. The frosty bottles in the cooler were like a sexy beer ad sans the hot chicks in string bikinis. Resting his head on the threadbare armrest, Dean made use of its triple wide cushion design to give his best boxers-only sprawl.

“Dean?”

“Yup.”

“Dean?”

“That’s me.”

“Dean?”

“You say it one more time and I’m gonna drown you in the toilet.“

Alec finally appeared before the couch with a shiny metal canister in one hand and an even shinier smile on his face. Dean looked him up and down and let out a sigh. He should have known that having this kind of quality zoning time was too good to last.

“Do me a favor would ya?” Alec asked. “Can you open this sucker for me?”

Dean looked dubiously at the can with the flimsy plastic lid. “You can’t get a can of peanuts open?”

Alec shrugged.

Dean supposed he should have been expecting the coiled fake snake to explode out of the faux can labeled: Mixed Nuts but in all honesty, he wasn’t quite on his game. Especially when the game’s origins were from the high-larious circa of the 19-freakin-50s. When his heart started beating again he tossed the can as hard as he could at Alec’s delighted face. But as usual, the kid could move himself and his face fairly quickly when required.

The can toss was good enough to take out the lower half of the living room window though.

“Dean?”

“No.”

“Dean?”

“Goddamnit.”

A squirting flower on a lapel. Fake dog shit. Hand buzzer. Whoopie cushion. Disappearing ink. Anything could be coming next from the mediocre barrel-o-laughs Alec had blissfully discovered in the backs of comic books yellowing in the attic. Well, that and the kid’s strange fondness for anything ‘made in Taiwan’ that required a shady money order.

“Wanna hear a joke, Dean?”

Presuming it would lead to less violence, he reluctantly gave Alec the go ahead.

“What’s black and white?” Alec held up his hands for emphasis. “And RED all over?”

“A penguin in a blender. Panda in blender. "Oh wait, wait, a killer whale in a really huge blender?”

“No.” Alec gave an offended frown. “I was gonna say ‘an embarrassed zebra’ but… but I guess your answers make sense too if you’re a big freak that enjoys putting monochromatic endangered species in industrial sized blenders—“

“You wanna hear a good knock-knock joke?” Dean offered.

“Knock-knock joke?” Alec rolled his eyes. “Knock-knock jokes are for losers– _AuHNn!_ ”

‘Large Telephone Book to the Crotch’ was a standard classic that Dean privately thought would never go out of style. And the best part was Dean didn't even have to move his ass off the couch. He swung the heavy tome back over his shoulder and gave Alec a 3-2-1 count. Just like a live Vegas match, the kid hit the mat and looked like he might be about to harf his cookies all over it too.

“Wanna hear another one?” Dean asked. “I got a whole stash of ‘em.”

“N-No, thanks,” Alec curled into a tighter ball on the floor. “I’m all set.”

“Glad to hear it,” Dean flipped the channel to a risqué woman’s volleyball tournament on a sunny beach. “Now move over cuz yer blockin’ the score.”

With a stifled groan, the kid dragged himself closer to the Chex-Mix and beer. Dean threw Alec one of the coveted sofa cushions to make his stay on the throw rug more comfortable. But before he could crack open another Bud, Dean was startled by the front door banging open.

Nothing could kill your buzz faster than the sight of a pissed off priest.

Sam took in the grim scene.

Gulping down beer while he still could, Dean made a brief inventory of what he would have to eventually explain, clean or repair. The broken window. A sullied couch. Strong possibility of no grandkids. But just for kicks, he decided to go for the truth this time just to see what would happen.

“Don’t look at me,” Dean said. “He started it.”

“Someone…” Sam said in a reasonably calm voice. “Someone put cellophane wrap over every toilet seat in the church.”

Alec was still out for the count but his pride, even from the fetal position, was palpable. Dean begrudgingly had to hand it to the kid. Bathroom vandalism was up high up there on the emotional pay off, but also pretty deep end on the repercussions. It was a gutsy move that not anyone would fully commit to without a sound getaway plan. Dean looked down at his nephew giving him a thumbs up from the floor.

He handed Alec a beer.

True genius always did include a small truckload of idiocy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Dean POV. Sam and Alec are both slightly surprised to discover that they share some things in common. Dean is not surprised at all._

Dean knew he was unreasonably psyched about the new Chinese restaurant that opened on Blue Earth’s one and only main drive. Sam had gone ahead and termed his mental state as ‘stupidly excited’. But not a whole lot changed around here and Dean hadn’t had a decent plate of fried rice since he’d been out to one of the coasts.

The last exciting trip out west not withstanding.

Sam and Alec both happened to be home at the same time, and even more miraculously, they agreed to go out somewhere. So Dean made the executive decision to move the herd to the grand opening gala event. Gala meaning they had coupons for a free-for-one egg rolls and a plate of spareribs. The former coin wash turned eatery wasn’t exactly hopping but Sam ended up having to meet and greet half the crowd before sitting down anyway. Pastoral duties and all didn’t do much for effortless excursions into the real world.

“Get up,” Dean told Alec.

“What’s wrong with this table?”

“I want a booth.”

But despite the lack of kung fu music and no lucky bamboo in sight, Dean thought it was a great opportunity for the three of them to be seen out in public. It was good for the locals to occasionally observe them being a cheerful functioning little unit of joy.

Alec broke his disposable chopsticks into halves and then into quarters.

“What’s the problem?” Dean asked.

“Nothing.”

“You embarrassed to be seen with us?”

“Yes.” Alec answered without hesitation. “I am.”

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Dean flipped out the dragon themed menu. “Sam and me are the cool kids in this town.”

“Speaking as an actual real life cool kid uh, you guys aren’t exactly what’s _it_ around here.”

Dean took a small sip of the complimentary green tea and concluded it tasted like it smelled. Something between boiled Astroturf and ripe lawn clippings. He drank the rest of it anyway and moved over when his brother finally got done blessing the fallen. “Okay, I concur that Sam sucks, but come on, my awesomeness automatically brings up the familial curb appeal by association alone.”

“Look, you just don’t understand where I’m at,” Alec patiently explained. “This whole deal isn’t as easy as you’d think it is.”

“What deal?”

“This situation,” Alec said. “I’m the one that has to walk around being the shameful and illegitimate product of your failed and loveless marriage.”

“Hey look, Sammy. They have duck.”

“You don’t like duck,” Sam said.

“Sure I do. What’s not to like?”

“You don’t like it because it doesn’t taste like chicken.”

“Oh yeah.”

“By the way, Dean,” Alec said. “That dude who delivers the mail thought I was _your_ kid and I didn’t bother setting him straight. So if he starts spreading anything around you get to do all the big long explanations.”

“My kid?” Dean snorted. “Why the hell would anyone think that?”

Alec gnawed a chopstick and squinted at the list of pig, fish or fowl.

Sam opened the hardcover book he carried along everywhere and anywhere that required any type of wait. Dean assumed it was always a different book but he never took much notice of it other than its power to end conversation. Which all of a sudden there was plenty lack there of.

Considering the steaming teapot between them, Dean thought about dumping a dozen sugar packets into the stuff to kick it up a little.

“Frederick Kowalski,” Alec declared loudly. “Is an idiot.”

The statement had come out of nowhere but Dean was starting to get used to the stops and starts that made up his nephew’s train of thought. “Wait, wait,” he pointed. “Is that the dude who backed over his own cow last week?”

“No,” Sam didn’t look up from his reading. “He’s an economist who won the noble peace prize three times in a row.”

Dean glanced back down at the book in his brother’s hands. And there was Fred. Besides a solemn black and white photograph on the back cover, his name gloriously took up most of thick binding too.

“Like I was saying,” Alec crossed his arms. “That guy is an idiot.”

“He has his moments,” Sam agreed. “But there’s a reason he’s teaching at Harvard.”

“Yeah,” Alec said. “Like it’s real hard to score a job there.”

Dean recalled Alec poking through the book when Sam had been walking around chatting with the flock. That meant the kid had had less than five minutes to read, ponder and absorb 500 pages on some rag about international government finances. Dean raised his eyebrows in appreciation. He couldn’t even get through the shit he actually gave a crap about in that kind of time.

“You have anything else to say about the guy?” Sam shut the book and folded his hands over it. “Besides that he’s a moron?”

Dean knew bait when he heard it.

“Maybe,” Alec looked uncertain for a second but then it was gone with his smile. “Actually, yeah. I do.”

Sam sat back and uncrossed his arms and legs in a gesture of receptiveness. But it wasn’t quite that feel-good mushy crap Sammy usually pulled out all the stops for with his congregation. This stance reminded Dean a little too much of dad and their ‘talks’ back in the day. But Alec didn’t seem too worried about it. In fact, the kid looked pretty excited.

“The natural procession of any great society isn’t about socialism,” Alec sat forward. “It’s about being allowed to make a dime.”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “Most free based economies nose dive as soon as the partition between social classes gets too wide.”

“That’s funny,” Alec shrugged. “Because that’s what everyone who can’t pay the rent says.”

“Some theorists say that every major western government has been in and out of a socialist climate for the last one hundred years.”

“No way,” Alec stated. “It’s all about capitalism.”

Dean wondered if egg drop soup was really as disgusting as he remembered. He also wondered if anyone else noticed that all the silverware on the table was vibrating. Putting his hand on his own set, he realized every table in the place was rattling too. “Uh, guys—“

“I don’t think the author really challenges the notion of an open market,” Sam continued. “But national health care and education should be standards. Standards that have been already set by some of Europe which have kept them the most powerful countries in the world, even after the Pulse and–”

“True, but—“

The waitress who arrived was suspiciously and disappointingly Caucasian. But to Dean’s relief, everything in the place that wasn’t bolted down abruptly silenced as soon as Sam and Alec’s attention was diverted elsewhere.

“Oh… I’m sorry,” she apologized. “Was I interrupting something?”

“No,” Dean assured her. “They were just boring the shit out of me.”

Her smile faltered for a second before it was right back in place.

It was a long shot but Dean went ahead and ordered the pork fried rice. His brother got the same thing he’d been ordering at Chinese joints since he was old enough to pronounce ‘sweet and sour chicken’. The kid finally picked out some weird special that had about ten different adjectives for ‘happy’ in it.

“That graph on page 321 tho?” Alec attacked the fried wontons as soon as they hit the table. “Totally on target.”

“Oh yeah,” Sam nodded. “I would have never thought to include tax law into the population percentile.”

Keeping an eye on the silverware, Dean was glad to see none of it moving on its own accord.

“Bet you haven’t read the banned stuff that came out of North Korea last year,” Alec poured soy sauce. “It’s awesome.”

“Try me.” Sam gave a smile. “Sagoung? Hahn?”

“Nope!” Alec looked like he’d just won something. “I was gonna say Changgok. It’s a little heavy on the Bolshevik-side but it has some decent concepts on 21st century free enterprise.”

“I read his first three books before he found Maoism,” Sam shook his head. “After that I thought he really started to stray into pure rhetorical.”

“Yeah! I thought that too!”

Dean caught the waitress’s attention one more time before she vanished. He needed some imported beer. Preferably no dark brews from any eastern European countries that were skirting the edges of communism. Dean looked nervously at the large picture window decorated festively with gold and red garlands. At the last second he changed his order and got another pot of that lame tea instead. It would probably be a smarter move to keep alcohol away from the rest of his family for tonight.

All he could afford to replace right now were a couple bent forks.

Dean frowned when their drinking water began to slosh with another heated turn in the debate.

And maybe a few glasses.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Alec POV. Winchesters vs. Shiny Crap._

Alec had really missed the sound of automatic sliding doors.

When that wall of ice cold air conditioning hit him in the face he thought he’d might have died and gone somewhere that wasn’t in Minnesota. Giving a big smile to a lady pushing past him with a loaded shopping cart, he took in the cavernous warehouse of a furniture store and soaked in the 1980’s pop musak.

It took him a moment to realize the doors had shut behind him and he was standing all alone.

“Hey!” he stomped on the mat to open them again. “Let’s go!”

Sam and Dean were still standing out on the sidewalk looking around at the place like it was a national monument that was better appreciated from a distance. Or a pile of cow shit decorated in Christmas lights. Maybe some combination of both. Alec stayed in range of the door sensors to keep them opening and closing until it annoyed his family enough to start moving in the right direction.

“Great isn’t it?“ Alec said when they finally stepped inside. “Don’t you love that smell!”

“Cheap plywood and meatballs?” Dean asked.

“No,” Alec spread his arms wide. “Commercialism.”

“I didn’t know any of these places survived the Pulse,” Sam mumbled. “I thought this complex was an abandoned aircraft hanger.”

“This place is where it's at,” Alec consulted a map on the wall. “It’s a Scandinavian furniture outlet that offers affordable fashion and home decoration for the average family.”

“You watch way too much television,” Dean said. “In fact, I’m gonna put the tube in the backyard so you have to go on more walks--”

“All I want is that neon martini dispenser and then we can hit the highway again. You guys said we could stop here and if all you’re going to do is bitch and moan the entire time let’s just go back to the freakin’ car and go--”

“Okay! Okay!” Dean shoved past him. “Let’s get your stupid whatever and get this over with.”

“What the hell is this thing?” Sam asked.

Alec turned to see his father kicking around a nebulous glob of a beanbag chair like a soccer ball. “Don't do that,“ he pulled Sam away. “You guys kinda worry me sometimes. You gotta get out more.”

“Hey, everyplace we’ve ever lived came fully furnished,” Dean said. “Or… ya know. It had a table or something in it.”

Alec spotted the helpful yellow arrow that lead into the maze of reasonably priced merchandise. The product he had seen advertised and needed bad was in here somewhere. It was a brilliant use of plexi-glass and halogen bulbs designed to enhance any drinking experience. Even if he thought martinis tasted like rubbing alcohol/ass he knew what would look fucking awesome on a fully tricked out oak bar with recessed lighting in the living room.

If they actually had one of those in their lame house.

“Follow me,” Alec said. “I know the way.”

 

 

 

They didn’t get very far.

“Would you look at all this storage space?” Dean marveled. “I could really use one of these in the garage. Look, it even in comes in black.”

Alec wondered if he could kill himself with a varnished wooden salad bowl that came with matching salt and pepper shakers.

“Check this one out,” Sam said. “You can install it right into the wall.”

Checking his watch, Alec had timed the hang up in the _Home & Office!_ department to be closing in on an hour. There were plenty of display chairs to wait around in but whenever they moved fifty feet they lost another ten when someone wandered off.

“Whoa,” Dean pointed. “It’s a sofa shaped like a circle!”

“Get a load of these faucets,” Sam twisted one on and off. “They look like 18th century hand pumps!”

Alec didn’t even care that they were getting closer to the food either. He’d seen signs for a cafeteria but that seemed to be where most of the people with screaming kids were headed. Wondering what kind of parent would subject their child to this kind of unbearable bullshit, he felt his heart skip when it appeared that his family might be about to resume their progress through the store.

“Hey Dean, we should really get a new bed for Alec.”

“Yeah, they think they’d ship this back to town?”

“This sign says this one’s out of stock.”

“What about that one--”

“Excuse me?” Alec interrupted. “I already have a bed. It works great.”

“Can you believe this?” Dean kicked the box spring. “This thing is only a hundred bucks!”

“That’s nothin’,” Sam said. “There’s one over there on sale for fifty!”

“That’s unbelievable,” Dean crossed his arms and shook his head. “Can you believe this Alec?”

“No, not really.”

There was only one department left.

Alec took one look at the sea of designer plates, dyed stemware and shabby chic candle holders and thought he might throw up.

“So where’s your thing?” Sam asked him.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Get your thing.”

Alec frowned at the overloaded shopping cart filled with assembly required crap that he was going to have to share with the backseat.

For a couple hundred miles.

“Look Sam! A stainless steel … uh…. what is this?”

“The sign says it’s a votive holder.”

“I bet a cat head would burn nice on it tho don’t ya think?”

With a sigh, Alec turned around and got headed back to _Bedrooms & Bath!_. There was a really cool bunk bed shaped like a biplane that he kind of wanted to try out.

At least until the place closed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Alec POV. Lots and lots of meatballs._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“15,000 of them, Sam?”

“Yup.”

“15,000.”

“That’s what I said, Dean.”

“Is that even… possible?”

“Not sure,” Sam sighed. “But I guess you’ll find out.”

Alec was looking around with mild awe at all the boxes filled with frozen cow stacked everywhere in their little kitchen. It was a hot end to August and the aroma reminded him of a battle zone a few days after the corpses had gotten a real chance to sit out in the sun. Hefting one of the heavy packages, he considered how many boxes it would require were he to be ground up and parceled pound for pound.

But his uncle interrupted him before he could venture the thought aloud.

“15,000 meatballs?” Dean’s shock was moving along nicely into outrage. “Are you out of your fucking _mind?_ ”

“Look Dean, I told you all about this a week ago and left a reminder on the fridge.”

Alec also wanted to know how the hell you made olive oil extra virginal but he was slightly worried the question might be offensive. The pictures on the bottles were pretty. Looking at the serene vistas of the olive groves, he wondered if anything in the world actually still looked like that.

“B-But why _15,000?!_ ”

“Because that’s the amount I promised the Women’s Club for their big luncheon on _Autism Awareness._ ”

“Yeah, I guess that’s the part that’s getting me all confused,” Dean said. “Because if YOU are the idiot who volunteered, then why am _I_ the guy stuck makin’ ‘em?”

“I can’t predict when I’m needed at a funeral,” Sam shrugged. “Besides you've got plenty of help.”

Rolling up his sleeves, Alec wondered why they didn’t make haz-mat suits for the average home owner. After all, he was about to potentially come into contact with at least one hundred types of lively bacteria that enjoyed doing the backstroke in raw meat. Escherichia coli, Salmonella and some gnarly strains of Streptococcus just to name a few…

“Yeah, about that,” Dean glared at the stainless steel bowls already arranged neatly on the table. “What’s with all the smiles, Alec?”

“Huh?” He’d actually been trying not to laugh at the word Streptococcus but he wasn’t about to let Dean in on that one. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“I dunno,” Alec tested the ice cream scoop for approximate meatball circumference and set the oven on the correct temperature. “I’ve never made meat into balls before. Mixing up ground muscle with my bare hands, tossing in raw eggs and then sculpting it back into another shape? It‘s so disgusting.”

“Ya hear that?” Dean asked Sam. “The kid thinks it’s as gross as I do.”

“No, no, not like that,“ Alec examined their old cheese grater and deemed it adequate. “I think it’s gross but you know, in a beautiful way. Kinda like child actors. Can you pass the basil, Dean?”

“Basil?”

“I don’t know what recipe you’re reading but MINE clearly states freshly chopped basil." Alec handed him the typed index card. “Of course you have re-calibrate the serving size from 10 to 10,000.”

“What is this?“ Dean squinted at the flowing script font. “Organic egg whites. Homemade herb bread crumbs. And what’s this about… braising?”

“On each side for ten minutes.”

Dean sat down at the kitchen table and rested his head in his hands.

“I think it will work out really nicely,“ Alec told him. “This particular recipe has not only been voted members favorite on LOVESTOCOOK.COM but had gotten over 2,500,034 positive reviews with only minor revisions in cooking times due to heat variation in ovens which is really not the fault of the recipe’s author but the--”

“No way, man,“ Dean shook his head. “Chef Boyardee never braised a goddamn meatball and neither am I. End of story!”

“Do you know what Dr. Sarah says during times like this?”

“Who the hell is Dr. Sarah?”

“She’s a celebrated psychoanalyst with her own syndicated column, radio hour and now an afternoon talk show,” Alec explained. “And she always says you should be part of the solution, not the problem.”

“I’ll bet my new carburetor that you found this stupid recipe on her website too?” Dean asked.

“Yeah! How’d you know?”

“It sounds great, Alec,” Sam shrugged on his coat. “And that doctor sounds like a smart lady.”

Dean crumpled the index card in his fist. “She sounds like a fucking cun-”

Sam let the door slam loudly behind him before his brother could finish the heart felt sentiment.

“She also has her own line of designer kitchen ware?” Alec offered. “And she’s only been to jail twice for tax invasion.”

“Can we just get this thing started?” Dean stood up and resolutely pushed in his chair. “Faster we get goin’, the faster all this dead cow ends up in ball form right?”

“That’s the spirit!” Alec pulled on an oven mitt shaped like a happy chicken. “All the Parmesan is ready to be grated and the tomato paste is ready to go!”

“Okay,” Dean said. “I’ll supervise.”

“That’s a good idea but will you be able to see what I’m doing from all the way over there…. Hey, you won’t even be able to hear me with the television on,” Alec gnawed at his lip. “Should I bring in the timer so you’ll know when to monitor my progress? Oh wait! I get it now! You aren’t into micro-managing. You think it will kill my individual motivational style by being a presence in my creative work-zone. I get it! That’s a really smooth move on your part by the way. Very Bill Gates--”

“Alec, those meatballs aren’t gonna go braisin’ themselves.”

“O-Oh, right.”

Alec felt a little lonely when the television volume went up high enough to drown out any questions or comments he might have felt like making as he worked. But when he spotted the flow chart he’d designed to document all the recipe revisions (and to point out all the inevitable errors in the original) he got back into his good mood.

His cheer even doubled after he shaped his very first meatball in the palm of his hand.

Only another 14,999 to go.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Dean POV. Dean needs a favor. A major One._

Dean knew the art of the con didn’t stop at the doors of the bars.

If any Winchester knew anything at all, they knew how to play people as a means to their own ends. Hell, sometimes they just did it for stuff they just wanted. The point being that if life was the con, the con was your life, therefore the codes of conduct weren’t dropped when they were off duty. But Dean had no complaints about his father’s version of the _Ten Commandments_. They were pretty much the same just with a few amendments.

You shall not steal: _unless the security system is lame._

You shall not murder: _unless he/she is asking for it._

You shall not covet. _your neighbors wife, or male or female slave, or ox, or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor._

Dean didn’t exactly understand all of the sacrament in present day middle America, but he got the gist.

But the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God: _you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns._

It was strange to realize it was the Sabbath and the Alien Resident Livestock Slave Thing of the Towns was sitting on the sofa in his underpants and watching television. Dawn had barely changed the sky from black to gray and Alec was already getting down and dirty with his _BFF* _. But instead of reality shows and music videos, his BFF was playing some CNN coverage about some flooding in some shitty part of Indonesia that was always under a few feet of water at any given time. But international tragedy aside, Dean knew he had to start this game off cool if he wanted to score Alec’s compliance.__

__But first things first._ _

__“You eat your breakfast?” Dean picked his words carefully. If he only asked about the vitamins then Alec would get pissed off and not take any of them out of pure spite. “I don’t see any plates.”_ _

__“I washed them.”_ _

__“Don’t make me ask, Alec,” Dean tried not to feel like an asshole and failed. “You haven’t taken your meds in two days.”_ _

__“How do you know?” Alec sat up straighter, guilt making him honest. “I pretended to swallow them right in front of you!”_ _

__“Actually, all I noticed was your recent lack of sleep,” Dean yawned. “Talking to me all night long and watching TV in my room kind of makes a guy suspicious.”_ _

__“Oh,” Alec held his hand out for the hated medication, his unbreakable link back to Manticore, his duty and bane. “There. See? I swallowed them all.” He stuck out a blue tongue._ _

__“I’d give you a cookie if I had one.”_ _

__“I’ll take whatever you got.”_ _

__“Well, now that you mention it….”_ _

__Gnawing on the inside of his lip, Dean was uncertain where to sit. This all had to fall neatly into place like one of those interlock puzzle games, or it would go to hell real fast. Because the thing was, for all his family’s know how, Dean had never formally been taught the fine art of asking for a favor. No one in his family ever bothered with any sugar coating or even offering the unsuspecting fool a drink first. A task was either ordered point blank or it was just taken for granted that the deed would get done. However, Alec didn’t respond as conveniently with the traditional methods._ _

__“Hey, Alec,” he included a small disarming smile. “You busy?“_ _

__“Yes.”_ _

__And while Dean was very happy the kid was embracing his new found ability to Just Say No, he also wanted some flat out obedience every now and then. Especially without a hour of negotiations beforehand on the terms and agreements. Glancing at the spastic commercial flashing on the monitor, Dean counted sixteen empty beer bottles on the coffee table and an equal amount of Twinkie wrappers. His uneasiness began to fade with the knowledge that the kid was riding a couple of different highs._ _

__He sat forward, his confidence fortified and primed for go._ _

__“What’s that you’re doin’ there?” Dean asked. “Still watching the Olympics and looking for barcodes?”_ _

__“Nope,“ Alec hefted a plastic bag filled with thick ropes of red licorice. “I’m eating these.”_ _

__Wondering where the candy had even come from, Dean had almost missed the way Alec had announced the endeavor as if it were a legitimate activity that required concentration._ _

__“Good, then you won’t mind taking a break and maybe-”_ _

__“I’m not fixing the dishwasher,” Alec informed him. “That thing never does anything but rinse everything in cold water. It‘s disgusting and wrong and you can’t make me be a part of it.”_ _

__“That’s not what I was-”_ _

__“And the soap dispenser leaves streaks on the glasses.”_ _

__If Dean had had any suspicions that Alec had jacked their washer just so he could do all the dishes by hand, they had just been neatly confirmed._ _

__“No, no, no, it’s not about that.” Dean looked unhappily out the front door and to the dirt drive beyond. “The only school bus in town is about to break down so they brought it over here so I could have the joy of spending my weekend fixing it and I thought maybe-”_ _

__“It’s like eating coaxial cable,” Alec gnawed on another piece of licorice. “If you know, you could eat that stuff.”_ _

__“-and the bus is pretty old. Like older than … older than ….”_ _

__“You?”_ _

__“Older than most of the spares I got laying around so we’re gonna need a little innovation here. Thinking outside the box so to speak. So if you could get your ass up off the sofa and into some pants we could get started.”_ _

__“Did you know," Alec clicked to an informerical. "That the CarpetSteamerMasterSteamMachine can clean almost all surfaces including crushed velvet?”_ _

__“What the hell is crushed velvet?”_ _

__“No one knows,” Alec waved a piece of licorice at the laptop. “And what the hell would you be doing to it that you’d need a CarpetSteamerMasterSteamMachine to get it tidy again?”_ _

__Dean found himself actually trying to think of an answer for the question before he could stop himself. In the process, his gaze fell on the giant plastic sack of candy that was still sitting in Alec’s lap._ _

__“By the way Alec, where’d you get that stuff?”_ _

__“Found it.”_ _

__“Found it where?”_ _

__“Dunno. Don’t remember. In the backyard I think?”_ _

__The ability to plausibly tell a lie was undoubtedly a trait straight from the Winchester gene pool and it broke Dean’s heart a little bit whenever he had to watch the kid try._ _

__“Look Alec, I’m only askin’ ‘cause I haven’t seen those things for a real long time. I don’t think the universe even makes Twizzlers anymore.”_ _

__“Did you know that if you bite off either end you can make them into straws?”_ _

__“Now that I think about it, the last time we had any of those in the house was for a dumb birthday party when I turned 30 which was … well, it was a few years back.”_ _

__“You mean eleven years back?”_ _

__“Yeah, thanks, but I’m trying to say that shit is as old as the Pulse and I’m not sure it’s a fantastic idea to eat it.”_ _

__“They are a little crunchy,” Alec considered another one before putting it into his mouth. “But that red dye #40? It really grows on you.”_ _

__“About the bus?”_ _

__“Yeah, yeah, I heard it pull up this morning,” Alec leaned to the side when Dean stepped directly in front of the television. “From the sound of it I’d say the entire transmission needs to be replaced and uh, probably all the tires and the suspension. While you’re at it I’d also replace the steering column and all the wiring.”_ _

__Dean looped the television cord around his boot and very discreetly disconnected it from the wall. It was nice to watch Alec work the remote in puzzled confusion for a while. It got even better when he emptied out the batteries and attempted rotating them._ _

__“What about the fuzzy dice hanging off the rear view?” Dean asked. “You think I should sew some new ones too?”_ _

__“Your call,” Alec shrugged. “You want some help? The TV isn’t working.”_ _

__“Sure,” Dean said. “Why not.”_ _

__Alec groaned sadly as he left his warm sofa nest to shiver in the early frigid dawn. His mysteriously silent BFF was a mystery he’d have to solve later. Right now Alec needed pants and some work boots. It was cold under that slate gray sky and Dean did feel a little badly at making the kid toil on the day of the Sabbath. Watching Alec haul up the engine cowl to take a look inside, he decided to make his other announcement now._ _

__“I got a little more work out here for you later,” Dean said. “Besides the bus. The bus gets done first.”_ _

__“Aw man,” Alec let the hood slam down in disgust. “Are you serious? I told you I had plans. I hadn’t even eaten half of that old red crap OR watch the Men’s Track & Field because I know, I KNOW, the Russians just didn’t start raking in Gold medals because they’re so awesome at running. I‘m doing some fast-freeze framing and I‘m gonna find some barcodes.”_ _

__“Over there, Alec,” Dean said. “It’s right up along side the tool shed. I tossed a sheet over it to hide it from you and I guess it worked.”_ _

__Alec walked cautiously towards it, but the closer he got the more obvious the shape under the oil tarp was. “It’s a motorcycle,” he pulled back the cloth. “It’s old.”_ _

__“Yeah,” Dean smiled. “I know how much you love sitting in the back seat so now you have another …option. I started on it a little. It‘s got storage for some shot guns on either side and a nice leather seat.”_ _

__“It’s a piece of shit…”_ _

__“At least it’s made in America,” Dean said. “No kid of mine is gonna be seen riding a rice rocket.”_ _

__“Japanese bikes are much cooler,” Alec wiped his hand down the oil caked fender and found a color underneath. “They‘re fast, sleek and sexy. A-And girls really like them.”_ _

__“A Harley Davidson will score you tail,” Dean laughed a little. “Don’t you worry.”_ _

__“I guess this means I gotta go find a black leather jacket.”_ _

__Dean laughed some more until he forgot one important detail. “Oh yeah... I kinda sort of neglected to tell Sam about the new bike. So be a pal and tell him YOU found it. It’s all YOUR idea and so on and so forth.”_ _

__“Yes, sir!”_ _

__Turning back to the sight of the wrecked bus, Dean felt his optimism waver. But it never quite flickered out. Especially when Alec began joyously punching out all the old windows that would have to be replaced. Dean tried one with a hammer and suddenly wished there were a fleet of old buses at his disposal. A guy had to have some fun time to time._ _

__More than ever on the goddamn Sabbath._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> best bffs like for real


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Alec POV. The big fat mysterious basement._ Thiz is kinda harsh. Sorry.

Alec tapped his fork through the mashed potatoes and did some Morse Code on his plate. He didn’t expect his uncle to decipher the secret message and respond, but he did expect a demand to settle the fuck down. He tapped louder until he started to annoy even himself.

To his mild frustration, Dean remained focused on not eating his dinner.

“So,” Alec said. “How was your day?”

Dean pushed his food around with his fork and shrugged.

“Did you have a nice day?” Alec tried to qualify. “Or a bad day?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Glancing up at his uncle, Alec tried not to be obvious with the staring. They were eating alone tonight because Sam had to do rounds in town with no mention of when he’d be back.

“If you were wondering… I had a nice day,” Alec said. “I had ice cream cake for lunch.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah.”

For some reason this evening wasn’t filled with the usual conversation Alec had learned was expected at a dinner table. Instead of talking about the garage, the weather or who was showing the most cleavage at church, there wasn’t much going on.

“I ran errands again today for Mrs. Hooper,” Alec said. “It’s kinda like being back at Jam Pony. Except no tips and people don’t try to run me down with their cars.”

“Could you pass the peas?”

Sliding over the bowl, Alec couldn’t help but notice that the heap of peas already on Dean’s plate hadn’t been depleted yet. “Mr. Smith came to his door in a towel,” he said. “A really small towel.”

“That’s cool.”

Alec frowned.

“Hey Alec, do you mind doing me a favor?”

“It’s kinda rude to hog all the peas-”

“It’s not about the peas.”

Alec watched Dean get out of his chair and dump a full plate into the sink.

“It won’t take long,” Dean assured him. “I just wanna show you something.”

“Something?” Alec wasn’t sure if he was a fan of his family’s surprises. “What kind of something?”

Dean dug into a jean pocket and placed the something on the table. Alec had to admit, the sight of a key was always intriguing. Briefly anyway. He quickly realized what it probably unlocked and his interest fizzled.

“It’s time.” Dean said with a sigh. “Tonight I’m gonna show you the basement.”

“O-Okay.”

“Follow me.”

Alec waited for his uncle to turn around before he sighed and tossed down his napkin.

The entrance to the basement was the only door at the end of the back hallway. It sat down there in the gloom like a fairy tale vault, assorted chains and charms covering it from floor to ceiling. Alec didn’t want to kill his uncle’s buzz so he didn't break it to the guy that he’d already been down in the basement on numerous occasions. The first time was a few hours after he’d been instructed it was off limits, and the other forty-two trips were for other far less exciting reasons.

He already knew the only mysterious thing about it was the money wasted on padlocks.

It didn’t take Dean very long to get the door open. Alec paused at the top of the stairs, uncertain if the dry rot could take the weight of two people. Deciding to chance it he winced at the worrying creak of wood under his feet. Another small sound made him look back over his shoulder.

“Bad cat.” Alec said. “Stay.”

The animal always magically arrived out of nowhere when the forbidden door was opened, but it never once followed him down into the depths. It always waited at the top of the stairs and squeaked up a racket until Alec came back.

“Dean wait, I should grab a flashlight. Uh…” he quickly remembered he wasn’t supposed to know what to expect. “Just in case?”

“Nah,” Dean said. “Don’t need one.”

The dark was absolute down there. Not even traces of ambient light for Alec’s sensitive retinas to detect. Wondering how Dean was getting around so easily, he stilled when he heard the scrape of a match. His eyes readjusted quickly as a gas lantern hissed to life. It added to the dusty ambiance and all, but Alec was about to ask why electricity wouldn’t be a whole lot simpler.

“Back up a little,” Dean hung the lantern on one of the overhead rafters. “Stay by the stairs.”

“Why?” Alec blinked into the glare of the light. “What for?”

“Just do it.”

The place looked exactly the same as it did the last time Alec had trespassed. It had a low ceiling that made it seem smaller and more cramped than it actually was. Boring shelves lined the boring walls, mostly empty except for a few dust coated jars and pieces of old farm equipment. Alec took a seat on the steps and tried to stifle his yawn.

“So, what did you want to show me?”

“You’ll see,” Dean said. “Wait a few minutes.”

Alec waited for five seconds. “I don’t see anything.”

His uncle’s face was unreadable under the white burn of the lantern, its flame casting flat shadows down on the packed dirt floor and up against the walls. Alec found himself staring at the mesmerizing flutter of the wick and fighting another yawn. He blinked when the flame jumped wildly behind the glass and his breath was suddenly fogging in front of his face.

“D-Dean?”

“Told you so.”

As the temperature dropped the light began to softly shift, the white deepening into a churn of blue. The stark shadows began to move, sliding down the walls and spiraling across the ground like water towards a drain.

“This usually only works if Sam’s here,” Dean had backed up uneasily against the wall. “But now it’s your turn.”

“What‘s happening?” The dark shapes were pausing at Alec’s feet and moving around him as if they were courteously trying to avoid contact. “I’m-I’m not doing anything, I swear-”

“Don’t panic,“ Dean told him. “You might spook ‘em.”

“Spook who?”

One part of Alec’s brain processed the implication that he had some control over this, but most of his senses were focused on the pool of black forming in the center of the room. The musty air was moving, slowly at first and then picking up to rush with the flow of shadows. Alec got unsteadily to his feet, the unpleasant sensation that the floor was now canted downwards and collapsing in on itself.

“Can you see it, Alec?”

“See what?” Alec couldn’t see anything but the black. “Where are you!”

“I’m right here! You’re doin’ great!”

Alec stumbled backwards as the hiss of the lantern turned into a sudden rush of voices. The dark was filling with noise, the mumble and murmur of countless people, rising and falling with the waver of black. But they didn’t sound threatening. In fact, Alec could only feel their tentative curiosity. He stepped forward and reached out his hand. One of the shadows stretched in his direction and swirled through his fingers, growing more and more solid at his touch. Blinking down at the vague shape of a hand gently holding his own, Alec could hear the soft voice of its owner whispering in his ear.

It was Pastor Jim.

“There’s a door down here,” Alec realized. “A door for ghosts.”

Like a picture book flipping too quickly in his head, he could see the old Pastor carving symbols into the floor by the light of the gas lantern. There were more wards hidden in the ceiling and walls. The priest had done it all to construct a safe passage to return one day into the land of the living, a revolving door he could use to come and go as he wished. Alec gasped as the shadows surged and wound themselves up his arms and over his face. He dully felt his body make contact with the stairs as his legs went out from under him.

Dean was shouting to him somewhere in the light and noise, but Alec couldn‘t answer.

“Stop…please…stop….” Gulping in another breath of frigid air, Alec felt the shadows press in closer. They began to smother him with their cold touch and eager thoughts, and all he could do was let them while he begged with one word over and over again. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop-

And then suddenly it all did.

Alec slowly lowered his shaking hands. The room was empty again except for Dean. He was holding the Pastor’s lantern and looking down at Alec in relief. Everything appeared as it had minutes before, the shadows all back in their normal places and the charmed flame settling back on its wick. His uncle’s grip was reassuringly warm as he helped Alec to his feet and clapped him hard on the back.

“You did it,” Dean grinned. “Never doubted you for a second.”

From the look on Dean’s face Alec wasn’t entirely confident that was the truth.

“Ever heard of a warning a guy first?” Alec muttered. “You should try it some time.”

“Sam said not to.” Dean’s grin faded with his apology. “He said you had to try it first like this or it might not work.”

“What-What does that mean?” Alec swayed on his feet, glad that his uncle was there to keep him from taking a header onto the floor. “This was some kind of lesson?”

“Something like that.”

Alec’s thoughts turned back to that fun filled night in the morgue when Sam had introduced him to some pissed off cadavers. Looking around the basement and its hidden door, he knew there was another life skill that he’d have to figure out for the Family Business. With a groan, he thought about all the other times he had casually broken into the basement looking for extra dryer sheets and canned peaches. Alec rubbed his numb hands together and felt the strain of a headache begin to pound behind his eyes.

“You did real good,” Dean moved him up the steps. “You just need some practice is all. Soon you’ll be as good as Sammy.”

“Good at what?”

“I have no idea,” Dean sighed. “Ask your dad.”

“Are we done for tonight?” Alec asked hopefully. “I think I’ve seen enough.”

“Yeah, let’s drink beer.”

The little cat was frantically pacing back and forth at the top of the stairs.

His uncle patted him again on the shoulder. Smiling weakly back, Alec decided there would be no more intruding into prohibited places for a real long time.

Maybe not ever.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Alec POV. In his former job Alec was required to travel extensively._

“Rough night, huh?”

“Deanpleasedon’ttouchthat-”

Alec groaned as the tightly drawn kitchen curtains were parted to let in the glare of the early dawn. Fumbling for the sunglasses on the table, he tried to ignore his retinas sizzling like they’d just been pressed to the surface of the sun.

“I was up pretty late,” Dean said. “Don’t think I heard you come in.”

“I was pushing the car down the road but I got pretty tired because that shit is all up hill so I left it there. It’s better to conserve anyway. It’s better for the world, our children, our children’s children and those who may one day choose to run uneconomical gas guzzlers like that piece of-”

“I don’t see my car either.”

“That’s because I never got past Route 30,” he blindly groped for the spoon in his cereal. “She’s locked up tight though. I think.”

Blue Earth wasn’t a real happening town and as hard as Alec might have tried to find the party, there weren’t any to be found. Lucky for him the nearby highway was a gateway to plenty of places as good as any to find booze and meet new people. He was mostly concerned with meeting new people with boobs but-

Something landed softly on the table.

“What’s this?” Alec asked.

“What’s it look like?”

Alec picked up the small slip of paper and flipped it over to squint at its front and back. Being quizzed and giving a wrong answer used to bring a lot more than the possibility of being incorrect. It was annoying that just getting a little tired made his reluctance resurface. “It looks like a check,” he said. “For twenty-three dollars and thirteen cents. Why does it have my name on it?”

Dean shook the empty box of corn flakes Alec had found on the counter. “You think you been chasin’ raccoons for free?”

Deciding not to answer that question, Alec glanced over the somber church stationary that accompanied the pay stub. “I’ve never seen a real paper check before,” he held it up to the light. “Ya know, except in the movies.”

“Don’t spend it all in one place.”

“I was thinking about taking a trip to Paris.”

“Yeah well, send me a postcard.” Dean sat down and took Alec’s bowl. “And one of those mimes.”

As the spoon was yanked out of his hand, Alec let his mind wander to the streets of the city that he hadn‘t actually set eyes on in quite some time. It occurred to him how many months had passed since he‘d walked the avenues and strolled the boulevards. “It’s pretty nice there I guess,” he gnawed on his sunglasses. “I wonder if the Eiffel Tower is still lit up with that stupid laser show.”

“Laser show?”

“Remember that thing?” Alec said. “They used to light the entire tower up at night like a casino in Vegas. But lamer.”

“Guess I don’t.“

“Better than London though, right?” Alec asked with a grin. “That stupid Ferris wheel was a real classy addition to the skyline. I thought British people were supposed to have more taste than everyone else.”

Alec yawned and realized his uncle had taken his coffee mug too.

“So?“ Dean asked. “Where else you been?”

“Lots of places,” Alec imagined a sign that read: Join the Manticore. See the World! “Touched every continent twice except the Antarctic. Think I might have gone to the moon a couple of times too.”

“Wow.”

Alec studied Dean for a second to make sure the use of the word was real and not mockery. But to his surprise his uncle appeared legitimately impressed. He glanced up at the sound of thunder, the morning sun fading with the churn of clouds.

“How about you guys?” Alec asked. “Bet you got some good stories.”

“Pass the milk would ya?”

Alec slid the carton across the table. “What’s the coolest place you‘ve been?” he was ready to counter anything Dean said with the jungle temples in Cambodia. Or maybe the outrageous street festivals in Brazil. He kind of liked the shady northern parts of Africa too. “Name it.”

“Been to a great bar down in Mexico a few times,” Dean shrugged. “And Canada but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count as a foreign country.”

Alec had to hand to the guy. His uncle could make almost anything come out of his mouth and sound like the God’s honest truth. But he didn’t feel like playing along. “Seriously, when was the last time you jumped a few time zones?”

“What did I just say?”

“Yeah right,” Alec laughed and rolled his eyes. “Like you’ve never been to Paris.”

Dean turned his attention back to his cereal.

“’Cause I mean,” Alec quickly said. “Every body’s been to Paris. A-At least once?”

“Hey, how about K-Ky-Kyrgyzstan?” Dean sounded like he was trying to clear his throat. “Is that a real place or just something to screw up those Spelling Bee kids?”

“Yeah, it’s for real,” Alec said. “But if you ever plan on visiting you’d better bring your running shoes. Their border patrols have about five annoying dogs to every armed man-”

“What about the rest of Russia?”

He was about to start reading down the list of every province of the area along with the names of pertinent cities, but something about reciting information didn’t feel as fun as it usually did. Alec didn’t like the way his uncle had lowered his gaze and was no longer looking him in the eye. The jarring rattle of the garbage disposal made him jump as Dean experimentally clicked it on and off.

“Thought about going to the Caribbean once,” Dean said. “For a job a few years back.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“Don’t remember.”

Alec thought about the car he’d left abandoned on the side of the road. That ancient Chevy of theirs had probably taken them from one side of the continental United States and back again a million times. It might have even have traveled as far to equal a trip out into space, but Alec knew that the black paint had done nothing but reflect the same old street lights from one town after another.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Hey, about all that stuff I said about Paris? Not everyone goes there. I mean, some French people don’t even go to Paris and they live there. It’s totally not the big deal everyone makes it out to be. There’s the museums, art galleries and the awesome food, but other than that it’s a complete bust.”

“I heard they don’t clean up after their dogs.”

“Yeah, it’s gross.”

Dean held his breath before putting his hand down into the blocked sink. Digging around, he gave Alec a wink when he yanked out the bent fork that was causing all the ruckus.

“B-But Kyrgyzstan can be nice in the summer?” Alec said. “It’s really pretty if you like mountains and being cold and wet in them.”

“Maybe we’ll go sometime,” Dean flipped the dishrag over his shoulder. “You, me and Sammy. While we’re out there we can check out that other place that’s always in the news. T-Ta-Tajiki-Takitstani-”

“Tajikistan?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“I’ve never been there,” Alec admitted. “Unless you count the airport.”

“That’s okay,” Dean said. “I’m real good with languages.”

Alec smiled back, suddenly aware that he was still exhausted and hungry. For the first time in days, the bed up in the attic with the rain thudding on the roof sounded like the best place to be. He got up and got ready to make the long walk up the two flights of stairs.

“Hold on,” Dean said. “There’s a gas can out back.”

“What?”

“It’ll fill her up enough to drive her to the station,” Dean told him. “And then you can top her off. But don’t fill her up all the way, the intake seal is coming loose and I don’t want it to-”

“But I just got home,” Alec looked towards the stairs. “A-And Route 30 is over ten miles away.”

“Then you’d better do some double time.”

Alec caught the umbrella aimed at his head as he made his way down the back porch steps. But he didn’t open it. He didn’t even bother to blur to make the long walk a shorter one. Looking up into Blue Earth’s gray sky he let the rain drops splatter on his face and didn‘t mind the feel of them. He had to admit, the weather sure did look the same no matter where you went. If he squinted hard enough the cornfields could just as easily be the rise of any mountain range. And if he concentrated on the ground, the mud under his boots could be the dirt alongside any ocean on the planet.

He glanced back at the house, sitting with its windows lit and chimney smoking under the clouds. Picking up his pace he changed his mind and decided to bring the car back as fast as possible.

Maybe Dean had a point.

Besides a few parties there wasn’t much to miss out here anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor Dean. mew.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec POV. http://www.aanma.org/farmersmarket/fm_anaphylaxisguide.htm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Would you look at this,” Alec announced to no one at all. “And the guy just gave it to me. For free!”

It had been a little anticlimactic lugging the giant crate from the bottom of the road and all the way up the porch steps with no audience. He’d had expected someone to be within shouting distance when he dropped it as noisily as possible right in front of the door.

“Hello?” he tried again. “I did something awesome?”

Finally he heard a voice from the top third floor, and when Alec thought about it, his third floor where there was nothing but some storage and his attic. Sam appeared on the stairs wiping dust from his hands and looking pointedly down at his watch.

Alec had been expected home hours (possibly a day) ago but he had a few distractions on his way into town and back.

“I can explain,” Alec said. “I went to that house like you said but she needed to move the sofa so I could take out all those other boxes? So I took them across town for her to this other guy and he couldn’t get his airplane started so I hung out there for a while and he ended up giving me a lift over to Dover? While I was there I played a couple of hands of cards to get my gun back and I won this!”

Sam was keeping a good distance away from the damp crate.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s food,” Alec nodded. “It smells like the ocean.”

“Alec, we don’t have any big freezers for this kind of thing, and we-”

“Then we’ll have to eat it tonight” Alec said simply. “So go turn on the stove.”

“But you don’t even know what it is.”

Alec pulled off one of the planks keeping the crate together and cringed when it let out a pink slurry of melted ice. He backed away too when the stink got compellingly worse. Dean came down the stairs behind Sam and stopped when he got closer to the reek.

“What the f-”

“It’s dinner.” Alec informed him. “And what were you guys doing in my room? It’s a private place and I don’t want anyone in it besides me.”

“The roof was leakin’.” Dean circled the flagrant box warily. “And someone left their stereo on under an open window during a thunderstorm.”

“That could cause a fire.” Alec conceded. “However, I’d still like it if you didn’t go in there without asking permission first-”

“I haven’t seen fresh crab in months,” Dean crouched down. “Where did you get all this?”

“Hey! Crab is good right? I’ve never had it but its what people always eat on TV in bad lighting and slutty clothes.”

“Great,” Dean grinned. “You fire up some pots of water and I’ll slip into something slutty. You too, right Sammy? Something off the shoulder would be nice.”

Alec pushed past them with the leaking crate in his arms.

Boil water. Lots and lots of water. Then melt some butter. He got more and more excited the more the scent of day old crustacean soaked into his clothes and dripped all over the floor. This was going to be one glorious and disgusting mess.

 

 

 

“W-Why did you stop eating?” Alec tossed a decimated crab claw aside into a teetering pile on the floor. “There’s plenty more.”

“No way,” Dean moaned. “There might be some room left in my esophagus…maybe…”

Alec appreciated the candle light and his request for some fine dining apparel. He wasn’t sure why Dean’s symmetrically shredded White Snake tour shirt was classy but it unarguably exposed inappropriate amounts of skin. Sam didn’t even try to dress up but Alec was so excited about all the aquatic arthropods floating in butter that he overlooked his father’s lack of participation.

“There’s was even some lobster in there,” Alec could barely move. “Those are even better than crabs right?”

“How could you have never eaten a crab before?” Dean asked again. “That’s weird.”

“I’ve never eaten a lot of things.” Alec picked through the crabby remains on the table. “I’ve never had flan. Or that whipped cream that comes out of a bottle. Or hey, yams. Or most types of squash. I think I’ve eaten dog but honestly once it gets all mixed up and cooked I can’t really tell the… tell the….”

“Hey,“ Dean asked. “Have you ever had a Cleveland steamer?”

Alec thought for a second before shaking his head. “No, what is that-”

“Nothing,” Sam interrupted. “So are we done here? You think we had a raccoon problem before, wait until they get a whiff of this.”

“Yeah,” Alec absently scratched at his neck. “Maybe I should keep it in the… in the shed…”

“You all right, Alec?” Sam asked.

Alec sagged back in his chair and stared up at the old chandelier that hung over their kitchen table. He couldn’t stop rubbing at his eyes. All the cut pieces of dusty glass looked especially bright tonight for some reason. The low watt bulbs were mesmerizing, and the warm wind blowing through the back door suddenly seemed slightly cold.

“I-I’m fine.”

“Alec?”

“What?” he had started to scratch at his arms and now his legs were driving him crazy too. “I told you I’d clean it up… just give me a minute…”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah-I’m-uh-just-having-some-trouble-” he paused to wheeze in a breath,”-with-restriction-in-the-respiratory-tract-uh…” Alec slid ungracefully off his chair and hit the floor. “Just-give-me-a-minute. I-I-I’ll be…I’ll be….”

“Too much wine there, kiddo?” Dean yawned. “Maybe you should lay off for the rest of the night.”

“Increased-heart-rate,” Alec was having a harder time wheezing. “Drop-in-blood-pressure-uh … dizziness…possible loss of conscious…”

“Alec?” Sam’s voice changed from tired to concerned. “You don’t look so good.”

“Is he fuckin’ around?” Dean asked. “’Cause the other day he pretended the car rolled over his foot and the little bastard almost gave me a goddamn heart attack.”

“N-No.” Alec firmly shook his head and then wished he didn’t when the room wouldn’t stop moving. “Swelling-in-the-back-of-the-throat-abdominal p-p-pain-nnnnnnh!“

“Dean, call the doctor and tell him to hurry.”

“What?” Dean fumbled for the line. “What’s going on?”

“Oh man,” Sam was next to him. “I think Alec is allergic to shellfish.”

“N-No-I’m-not,” Alec started shivering uncontrollably. “I’m normal! I love-bottom feeding crustaceans-soaked-in-melted-lard!”

“Yeah, well you love them so much that I think you might be going into anaphylactic shock.”

“Doc says he can be here in five minutes,” Dean still had the phone. “He said to make sure he keeps breathing. W-Wait! He might stop breathing?”

Alec looked dazedly over at the large pile of crab remains on his plate. It was getting almost impossible to swallow let alone breathe. “What-a-way-to-go, huh?” he managed a smile for his dad. “After all this bullshit and then-bam!- taken out by a shrimp cocktail….”

“I once choked on a lifesaver,” Sam pulled a pillow for him from the sofa. “I turned blue before I threw it up right in my dad‘s lap.”

Alec wasn’t sure when he'd laid down on the floor, but his father’s hand was behind his neck, tilting back his head and making it slightly easier to inhale and exhale.

“Christ Sam, the doc said to keep his airway open with anything we can find…. Are you listening to me?”

“Another time I tried to do a magic trick with a quarter.” Sam said. “Dean almost killed me trying to perform the Heimlich Maneuver...”

Alec strained to listen to Sam’s voice as it got fainter and fainter.

“You’ll be okay, Alec.”

He felt himself nod as the lights overhead went gauzy and bright.

And then he was gone.

 

 

 

“What happened?” Alec croaked. “Did I die?”

“No,” Dean took a seat on Alec’s bed. “But you can log another seizure in your book.”

“You had to get a shot,” Sam said. “After that you were fine.”

“I… I don’t feel fine.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded over his shoulder. “Neither will that bathroom for a while.”

“My stomach feels like… like…”

“Like you might have turned inside out a couple times?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, lets sum up what we learned this evening, shall we?“ Dean said. “First off we learned not to accept free seafood from shady pilots from Dover. Secondly, we learned that you my friend have a spectacularly heinous food allergy to shellfish. Thirdly, we learned that eating three times your weight in said shellfish has the ability to make even a Monday night in Blue Earth exciting-”

“What?”

“Congrats, Alec,” Dean smacked him on the thigh. “You’re the first person ever in our family to have an adverse reaction to something as great as food.”

“I think it was the wine,” Alec clutched his blanket closer. “It was kind of cheap.”

“Right,” Dean nodded. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna try mopping up the bathroom until it starts to smell less like low tide around here.”

Alec slumped down in his bed and looked up at his dad.

“For real, Sam? I almost bit it by eating a stupid crab?”

“Well,” Sam sighed. “It was closer to about 100 crabs but yeah, you heard what Dean said.”

“But-But it tasted so good.”

“Remember it fondly,” Sam told him. “Because you’ll never taste it again.”

“That’s not fair.”

Sam clicked off the single light in the attic. There had just used to be a plain bare bulb but someone had put a lamp in the corner. It spread a gold warmth instead of the stark glare that Alec was used to seeing overhead. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry if I puked on you,” Alec had a hazy memory of yakking on someone at some point. “But it’s a like a regular tradition around here, huh?”

“I guess it is.”

“Sam?”

“Yes?”

“Could you leave the door open a little?” Alec fought his heavy eyes. “Ya know, for the cat.”

“Sure.”

“Sam?”

"Yeah?"

“The universe really is kind of a hostile place isn’t it?”

“Not really,” Sam said. “You just gotta watch your back that’s all.”

Alec rolled over in his blankets and yawned. As he listened to his father walk slowly down the stairs he realized he wasn’t feeling good enough to lay in any position other than flat on his back. Steadying his breathing, he swallowed back another wave of nausea and tried to think of things that stayed perfectly still. Like rocks. And … other really big and immobile rocks. But he thought Sam had a good point about keeping your guard up even when things looked fine. There was a lot of wisdom in being careful to avoid all the minor and major disasters that waited in practically anything at all.

His stomach lurched when the cat unexpectedly jumped up onto the mattress.

Even pleasant places like the dinner table.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Alec POV. Alec has Post-Traumatic-Crab-Disorder. ha._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Alec liked the back porch.

He wasn’t sure if it met all the requirements a typical back porch was supposed to, but it was one of his favorite places to be. Well, within the finite and limited places to be had in the house.

“Gimme that.”

The hand-rolled cigarette was removed from his fingers and briefly examined before Dean took a drag off it. The exhale of smoke turned into a sigh of disappointment when it became clear there was nothing there burning but tobacco.

“You like it?“ Alec took it back before it was flicked into the bushes. “I’m working on a few new hobbies.”

“Nicotine?”

“It’s what people always do in the movies to relax.”

“Any luck?”

“Not really.”

“That’s nice,“ Dean spit over the railing. “It’s never too late to start a cancer collection.”

“Your pessimism doesn’t affect me,” Alec said. “Besides, many people enjoy tobacco products without developing tumors.”

“Just more of you to love.” Dean said. “How’s that for the bright side?”

Biting down on the cigarette, Alec shoved his hands under his arms and bounced a few times to warm up. The early morning sun was taking its sweet time coming up behind the rain clouds and with a brush of cold wind it didn’t bode much else besides more rain. But that was okay. Alec was looking forward to a couple more shitty days that required nothing but his silence. It was kind of Zen-like laying around and listening to water collect in the pots he’d strategically placed under the leaks in the attic roof.

Boring as hell, but definitely Zen.

“Want some waffles?” Dean asked. “I was thinking about chipping a couple out of the freezer.”

“No, thanks.”

“You gotta eat something, Alec.”

“No I don’t.”

“How about some Lucky Charms?” Dean tried to sell it with a smile. “I’ll even pick out all the horse shoes for ya.”

Alec executed a smoke ring that perfectly framed his uncle’s face.

“So you almost died eating a crab,” Dean said. “Just because you fall off the horse doesn’t mean you give up.”

Alec glanced over at the mug of hot steaming water he’d been enjoying for breakfast. What more did any guy really need besides hot water and a smoke anyway? If he really wanted to be honest the combination of weak coffee and an unfiltered cigarette was making him thinking about throwing up again. But thinking about the alternative in the kitchen’s cupboards and drawers didn’t make his stomach feel any better.

He ground out his smoke into the damp wood of the porch floor.

“Alec, lots of people have allergies.”

“Oh, yeah? Name one famous person with an allergy.”

“Uh-”

“Because they’re aren’t any.”

“I think I heard somethin’ about Jodie Foster bein’ a lesbian once?”

“I broke into the doctor’s office again.” Alec said. “I looked up everyone in the local population and only one other person in this whole town has a food allergy and he’s 98.”

“See?” Dean pointed. “You’re not alone.”

“He has a _nut_ allergy,” Alec made a fist. “What I wouldn’t GIVE for one of those.”

“Ok, ok, I think you’re just looking at this all the wrong way,” Dean said. “Think of it like your other.. Uh, gift?”

Alec narrowed his eyes.

“Okay,“ Dean conceded. “It’s a weird kinda shitty gift but it was given to you and there’s no arguing it’s pretty special…”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It’s called gettin' a philosophy. Apparently it brings meaning to what seems like meaningless bullshit. Like almost getting killed by a crab.”

Alec wondered if his uncle might have been doing more listening than sleeping at Sam lectures in the church down the hill. He followed Dean back inside when he heard the door opened for him. There wasn’t much point in standing out in the rain with no more cigarettes to pretend to like.

“Damn,” Dean grumbled. “Would you look at the size of that thing?”

Looking around for any and all possible things his uncle may be referring to, Alec tried to get into the mood for food. Besides the inadequately sized television and the causal disaster of their living room there was only one other object of note.

The not so tiny cat.

“Have you been feeding him after I do?” Dean demanded. “’Cause I think the bastard is doubling in size by the hour.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Look at him!” Dean poked his boot at the ample belly spread over the floor. “He’s gettin’ a little sloppy don’t ya think?”

“That’s not fat.”

“What would you call it?”

“That’s pregnant.”

“No way.” Dean reexamined the pendulous belly that had been swinging under the cat’s undercarriage. “Oh, man. Seriously?”

“’Fraid so.” Alec nodded. “Couple weeks.”

“B-But he’s just a child himself.”

“Must be a family thing.”

His uncle picked up the yawning feline with a frown of disgust.

“Hey,” Alec took a seat at the table. “Did you say something about waffles?”

“What? Oh yeah, right, uh, you got it… want some eggs too?”

“Sure.”

Alec got comfortable to the sound of the toaster and the sizzle of butter melting in the pan. Scratching the purring cat behind the ears, he thought that eating again might not be such a bad idea.

Besides, he’d always read that smoking could cause low birth weight.


	10. Chapter 10

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Friday nights used to be Alec’s favorite set of 24 hours in the week. The arrival of that magical day meant cutting out of Jam Pony early, a night of trolling the clubs, and an early morning liaison with whatever conceded to getting mostly naked with him in an alleyway.

But not anymore.

Alec cracked a few windows and kicked the back door open to cool off the sweltering kitchen. Frowning at the faded increment lines on a measuring cup, he poured an extra squirt of ketchup into the mixing bowl just to be on the safe side. Another cup of milk probably wouldn’t hurt either. A glance at the clock made him anxiously check the collection of stopwatches he had lined up on the counter. They were all carefully synchronized to reach zero at the exact same time. With Sam doing his churchly rounds with the town’s chatty elderly and Dean stuck at the garage, Alec had been appointed with Friday’s all important chore for the very first time.

Dinner at 6PM.

Alec had secretly liked how Dean had added the word “promptly” after the instruction. Another look at the clock made him quickly scan the open cabinets one last time to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Everything was perfect. He had made sure to cover all the essential food groups listed on the National Board of Health’s website. Assured that beer would cover the grain department, he poured what was left in his bottle into the mixing bowl. The recipe hadn’t been very specific so he figured he’d take some liberties to make it a little more exciting. He frowned at the next step which called for a chop, pulp, then a fine puree. Unsure of how to proceed he studied the buttons on the old blender. The ten different options seemed to accomplish all the same shit as far as he was concerned.

He hit the _frappe_ button just for kicks.

All was well. As soon as the soup was going he’d start on the tiered Jello mold that was going to sit majestically on the dessert tray of diced Twinkies stuffed with chilled Pop Rocks…

Alec’s heart skipped a beat when he heard tires grinding in the gravel driveway.

Fumbling in a panic with the spatulas, he winced at the sound of both his father’s and uncle’s footsteps on the front porch. He froze in fear. Nothing was even close to readiness and the grapefruits in the oven had only been braised twice.

“Alec!” Dean called. “You home?”

“Don’t come in here!”

“What? Why?”

“It’s only 5:43,” Alec hissed. “Y-You said 6!”

“So we’re early,” Dean shrugged off his jacket. “Where’s the chow?”

“Alec?” Sam paused at the back door. “There’s something on fire in the backyard.”

“No there’s not,” Alec said. “That’s the meat product I put on the grill. It’s called Spam. It‘s cool. I sculpted it into a stuffed chicken.”

“Whatever the hell it was,” Dean perused the cluttered counter top. “It’s stuffed charcoal now.”

“That’s impossible,” Alec tapped the laptop sitting on the table. “According to my thermo read it hasn’t reached 145 degrees Fahrenheit yet.”

“What happens when it reaches 145 degrees Fahrenheit?”

“Then it will be _done._ ” Alec rolled his eyes. “You have to achieve an adequate temperature to cook… uh, meaty things or you run a high risk of contracting an intestinal parasite and that’s no fun day at a theme park let me tell you--”

“Hey,” Dean pulled an empty Bud bottle out of the sink. “Did you drink all my beer?”

“No,” Alec said. “I made a soup.”

“Soup.”

“Yeah,” Alec brightened. “Did you know that the ancient Egyptians used to feed their slaves a thick mead, or as you would say today beer, that was both a food and an intoxicant to keep them under control--”

“All right, all right,” Sam said. “Let’s just skip the soup and get to dinner.”

“No.” Alec said.

Sam raised his eyebrows.

“Watch TV or something,” Alec absently wiped a sticky smear of mystery substance on his jeans. “Dinner isn’t ready yet.”

“Who cares.” Dean tossed the bottle back into the sink. “Set the table.”

Sam had gotten as close to the stove as he could without being splattered by the boiling oil that was spitting on the burner. “It sure smells like… something.”

Alec couldn’t suppress his grin. “I’m making fried squid stuffed with…“ During the exhaustive internet search he’d found most foods considered any good were often stuffed with something else. “I guess by nature a squid would be stuffed with more squid?”

“Calamari.” Sam fished a lump out of the pot with a spoon and tossed it gingerly from hand to hand. “Where’d you get it?”

“Well,” Alec said. “The can said _seafood products_ , but I’m pretty sure that means there’s some squid in there.”

“Can?” Sam carefully put the hot lump into his mouth. “What can?”

“The can the cat’s food comes in.”

Sam let the half chewed lump fall out of his mouth into a waiting napkin Dean was holding.

“How about an appetizer?” Alec tried. “The internet says everyone likes those.”

“Why not?” Dean shrugged. “What doesn’t kill you, right?”

Alec was glad he’d already set up the hors d’oeuvres well in advance. Setting down the tray decorated with festively carved radishes, he waited for his father and uncle to go at it. But instead they were both standing a few feet from the kitchen table with a wariness Alec had only seen when they were hunting.

“Looks great, but um,” Sam asked. “What are those?”

“Olives.” Alec proudly replied. “Stuffed ones.”

“I like olives,” Dean gratefully took a seat. “Looks good.”

“The only thing that would fit in there were peas, tho.” Alec watched in satisfaction as his uncle fearlessly tossed a few olives down. But the face Dean made was oddly not one of delighted surprise. “Oh, and M&Ms.”

“Would ya take a look at that,” Dean picked up another olive to show Sam. “I don’t think I’ve seen an M&M since the Pulse.”

“I picked them out of some old trail mix I found in the back of the trunk.”

“Huh.“ His uncle paused mid-chew before swallowing. “Tastes sorta minty.“

“Oh yeah, tic-tacs work great too.”

For some reason Sam hadn’t sat down yet. Alec looked worriedly out the window at the smoking remains on the grill and then into the oven at the withered ruins of the barbecued grapefruits.

“Maybe… Maybe we can call that place in town?” Alec said. “They deliver out here sometimes if their scooter is working-”

“That sounds great,” Sam interrupted. “How about pizza?”

His father was giving him one of those weird smiles. Like the one he gave Alec when he’d started the mosquito farm in an old truck tire, or the time he’d discovered how to make the doorbell chime with that old rap song about big butts.

“Get one with everything on it,” Dean said. “’Cept maybe olives.”

Turning off the burners, Alec turned off his stopwatches one by one. He decided not to mention the tuna salsa and the Fruit Loop salad. So much for taking his duties as seriously as he’d been instructed. With a yawn he realized that all this culinary artistry was pretty exhausting.

He wouldn’t mind a good pizza anyway.

And besides, they hadn’t even seen what he planned for the Saturday afternoon brunch.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Alec POV. Alec finds something in the woods._ fini

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Alec heard it before he saw it.

_eep!_

Stepping over a log, he wandered further into the overgrowth of what passed for a forest around here. The shade under the old oak trees shed a soft green light that reminded him of something clean. He took a deep breath filled with last night’s rain and the fresh mud under his boots.

_eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!_

“Hello?” he ventured. “Anyone in here?”

The small grove of trees at the end of the cornfield didn’t hold many hiding places but he was having trouble locating the source of the small urgent sound. Alec stilled to use his senses, triangulating and differentiating the noises of the water dripping through the leaves and the rustle of the corn. But after a minute passed the strange sound seemed to have gone. With a shrug he dug out the packet of smokes in had in his jacket and decided to take a seat on the log.

_breeeeep!_

Alec abruptly stopped with his ass only inches from touch down. Startled, he quickly turned to see what he’d almost sat on.

It was a bird.

A baby one.

He studied its fluffy brown plumage that had so cleverly hidden it from view. However, the thing didn’t look much like any bird he’d ever seen. This one looked with wisps of feathers poking out on either side of its head and flimsy wings that flapped uselessly at its sides. The guy started really wigging out when Alec bent down to pick it up. He slipped its kicking feet between two fingers and let it rest on his hand. As it calmed he wondered when exactly he’d been downloaded with the proper procedures to handle wildlife.

_mrrrrrow?_

Alec knew that particular sound well enough. It was a guarantee whenever he opened a tuna can or made his lap unavailable by lingering too long in the bathtub. He watched the slow slink of the cat as it wound its way through the tall weeds.

“You heard it too, huh?” Alec asked. “Looks like I got here first.”

The tiger striped cat let out a wide yawn before resuming its unblinking stare. Alec took a seat while the bird settled in his grip and its fluttering heart begin to slow. But something about the fledgling’s obliviousness to the eager predator waiting patiently at his feet made him sick to his stomach.

“Nope,” Alec glanced at the cat as it crept closer via the log. “Not yet pal.”

With a thumb and forefinger Alec delicately unfolded its wings, one after the other. As he suspected they were both damaged, the worn bare flesh underneath torn and red. _Compound fractures. Infection. Malnutrition. Dehydration._ His mind scrolled through all the required information and processed it while he gently released its ruined wings. _Fluids. Compression. Bone reconstruction._ The solutions came as effortlessly as the diagnostic.

“You are supposed to be in a nest,” he said quietly. “You were supposed to stay there.”

_chirpeep!_

The smell of the mud and the faint scent of sickness from the animal made him close his eyes. He could suddenly recall a moment in a real forest in another country far away from this one. A dying X5. So many of them. It had been colder but the lime green light was the same through the shifting trees. Alec had been younger and smaller. He had managed to dig a bullet out of another X5’s chest while her blood pumped out over his shaking hands. Alec had known she was going die but he had done it anyway.

He turned his head as he caught a song blaring distantly from the radio Dean left outside on the porch. There was faint laughter from his father and uncle taking the morning off to do nothing at all.

_mrrrrrrmeow!_

“Yeah, yeah,” Alec flicked the pacing cat‘s tail out of his face. “I heard you the first time.”

The wind picked up and the early sun glittered in patches on the carpet of rotting leaves. He attempted to ignore the onslaught of data that told him more about the weather system moving in overhead. The dew point. The humidity. What it would do to weapon calibration. What it would do to cover and communications. He swallowed a lump in his throat and wondered if all the meteorology had been installed into his brain at the same time as the inexplicable veterinary skills.

He touched a fingertip to the bird’s tiny head.

Its breathing was becoming more labored, its wide eyes glossy and frantic. Respiratory failure. Irregular cardiac rhythm. Blood pressure falling. With a sigh Alec looked straight up through the trees to watch the white churn of the passing clouds. He didn’t need to look to know where to press his thumb on the small warm body in his hand. The feel of the fragile skeleton snapping made his queasy stomach lurch. Placing the bird back on the log where he’d found it, he stood and let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

The cat immediately roused from its impromptu nap in the leaves.

“Your turn,” Alec muttered. “Bon appetite.”

As he walked back towards the house, he raised his arm to answer the wave Sam gave him in the distance. He could feel his father’s question drift to him with the breeze, sensing a son’s agitation and asking to see why. But looking back up into the sky, Alec could only see and remember long ago the blank stare of an X5 laying still on a forest floor. Some scientist down in the labs had chosen to make those eyes as blue as a summer morning.

Alec couldn’t imagine why. Aesthetics maybe


End file.
